The Newest Production After the Flames
by LokiHiddles1981
Summary: The Populaire has been reconstructed, and regrettably La Carlotta is back on stage. What will happen when Erik's fury takes over again- and what will occur, when a petite Meg Giry steps into the spot light? Find out!
1. Chapter 1

This story is written especially for suscintilla who inspired me more than anything with her delicious story _The Owl and the Pussycat_. That story is the BEST phanfic I have EVER read so far- and I am sure EVERYONE who is in love with our gorgeous Erik will LOVE it. I hope that you continue with your marvelous story, suscintilla! By the way – again, I have erased the fact that he murdered. Yes- he knocked out Piangi, who later died from the fire and the man who was supposed to take Christine to the cemetery, and he went partially insane- but he never killed Bouquet: just suppose he died, seeing as he was always filling his belly with alcohol and who knows what else!

Erik looked down at his rose, which he had set down next to the sketches he had drawn of himself as Don Juan.

_No one would listen… No one, but her… heard as the outcast hears. _He sang softly; putting his hands together as if for a prayer. He closed his eyes and sat there; his Red Death's cape draped over the chair.

_Aye, she listened. But now, she is listening to the song of her true love. I have set my angel free. It is time to move on. _

It had been a year since the horrible disaster and spring now came on in Paris, 1871. After reconstruction and hard work of everyone who tried to live in the burned down mess of the Populaire, they all set back to work; already beginning their rehearsals for the opening production of the replenished theatre. Carlotta Giudicelli, now without her Piangi, was asked to sing again; seeing as O.G. seemed to have perished along with the fire. For on that fateful night, the angry mob went down and found a strange empty home of something or someone; but they did not find anyone down there, so they decided to leave it alone. One of them wanted to burn the place which was full of art and music, but another decided it would put a curse on them all; and that they should leave the scene untouched.

Poor Carlotta, was still quite shocked at finding Ubaldo deceased; but said, "Lo spettacolo deve continuare!" The show must go on! So she once again was to star in the newest production of _Amami o L'amore non Mi_, which was about the beautiful maiden, Melina from Venice who fell in love with a man who was condemned to death. Carlotta, of course, was immediately cast as the lovely Melina, to most everyone's misery.

Meg Giry stood infront of her dressing room mirror; her mother fixing her corset.

"Ouch, Mama!" She screeched.

"Hold still, Meg darling." Antoinette Giry said. She then loosened the strings a little to accommodate her dear one. "Your costume is supposed to be worn tightly, just as all the others, Meg."

"I know, but sometimes I find that I loathe corsets more than anything!" Meg replied.

"No woman in her right mind likes how they feel. The only thing a woman likes is what they do for the shape."

"Well, some women may- but I don't think it is needed."

"Sorry, but that's not up to you- at least when it comes to costumes; especially when you are wearing the exact same thing as a lot of other girls."

"Eww," Meg said, grimacing at the ugly rags sitting on the bed. "I am not about to put those on… am I, mama?" Meg inquired gesturing to them. Her mother took them into her hands.

"I am afraid that the ballet chorus are playing Melina's scullery, and hand maids for the entire performance. So you'll be wearing different kinds of work clothes through out." Madame Giry answered reluctantly. Meg sighed.

"Oh dear… At least today is not a dress rehearsal." Meg said.

"Yes, you are lucky for that. Now go onto the stage, tell the girls I will be there to instruct soon- I have something I must attend to." Antoinette glancing at a note with a skull seal on Meg's dressing room desk.

Anyways- I don't know if it's any good. I hope you guys will help me out with what it needs, and what- perhaps- it does not need! Thank you!


	2. Erik in an Intoxicated State

Ace of Gallifrey and CourtneyRBowman thanks so much for reading the first chapter here is the second. I hope you like….

"What on earth?" Madame Giry nearly scared Erik out of his skin shouting at him, standing behind him. "The nerve. I am just glad she did not get a hold of it before I did!" She shook one of his envelopes at his face.

"What is this about, Antoinette?" Erik's voice had the same velvety tone that she had always known; calm- almost soothing. He stood up and took the letter from her, and having glanced at it briefly, he put it to one of his candles and burned it. Before it caught his hand he through it into the lake. Hands her hips Antoinette demanded an explanation. Erik put his hands up gesturing to calm her down.

"I won't do it again…"

"'Won't do it again'? Hmm? What in the world do you mean by sending a threatening note to my daughter? _My _daughter." The last that she said was nothing more than a breath. Placing her hand on her heart, she sat down on his organ bench. He sat beside her. He put his head in his hands.

"I wasn't… I didn't…" Madame Giry sighed, seeing the pitiful man was merely confused.

"Erik, when will you get in your right mind? Christine is gone. She will not come back. Are you ready to accept that?" She questioned. He lifted his face and turned it to her.

"I don't know. I don't know anything."

"Erik, don't be ridiculous, you are the most well-informed man I know to live under the opera house…" She said.

"I am the only man you know to live under here." He smiled at her, and it lifted her hopes, but then he frowned again breathing heavily.

"Antoinette, for ten years I had been living for this child; wanting to please her; needing her to love me. And now she is gone. What have I to live for now?" He stood up and walked over to the paintings and sketches he made of her.

"Move on. Start afresh."

"Do you think that is simple?" He asked, his voice rising to dangerous heights. "Do you think I can stop loving her?"

"So writing my daughter was your excuse of sorts. You wanted to tell her to remove herself from this opera because of what Christine did to you? Well, let me make one thing clear; no matter what you _think _Christine did to you- my daughter stays out of it." There was a firm tone in her voice, and Erik knew that he should obey her if he valued his life. But did he? Perhaps after Antoinette left, he would do her and everyone else a favour, and take it. But would that be a favour? Maybe it wouldn't even make a difference. No one cared weather he lived or died.

"I won't send her any letters, speak to her, or lay a finger on her. You have my word." He said solemnly. Antoinette looked skeptical, but nodded and walked back up and out of his dungeon.

Erik fumbled about; feeling like he was intoxicated and he took one of his Punjab lassos. He only used this to knock people out when they were in the way, but now he thought he would put it to good use. He stepped into the cold, murky lake water which surrounded him and put the lasso loosely around his neck. "He came into the world and left it behind; having never been loved." He said morbidly.

Meg Giry tied her ballet shoes and went to do her stretches on the stage.

"Where is your mother, Meg? We have been stretching for hours, shouldn't we begin the rehearsal?" Crow nest haired Lolita asked. Meg sighed.

"I will go look for her." She replied. She went to her mother's room and rapped on the door. "Mama?" She called softly. She heard her mother gasp. _What is going on in there? _There was a drawn out silence, and Meg knocked again. No answer. Having lost her patience she opened the door and peeked inside. She was just in time to catch a glimpse of her mother moving aside her book case revealing a passageway. Meg was not surprised; she caught her doing things like this a lot. But she never questioned her mother; she figured her business was her own.

However Meg couldn't stand it, she had to see what she was up to. She watched as her mother lit a candelabra and walk into the mysterious passage and then she ran, light as a mouse on her feet, over and through the book case just before the entrance closed again. She leaned over and saw her mother walking into a black abyss, and turning a corner, she softly followed behind. Where were their tracks to take them?

Just as Erik was about to tighten the noose to strangle himself, a small voice called out from the shadows, "Stop!" He turned to see a petite female form emerge. He was surprised beyond his wits. It was Meg.

After hearing the heated conversation of her mother and the 'Opera Ghost' Meg watched as her mother left the scene. Was this the man that she always spotted in the shadows during rehearsals or a performance? Was this the one who owned the mask that she found so many months before? Was he the one who kidnapped her dear friend Christine? She now thought these questions may never be answered for he had taken a noose and appeared to be ready to take his life. He was saying something and she was buried knee deep in her thoughts, that she only caught the last part of what he said, "..Having never been loved."

"Stop!" She shouted running over to him. She tugged at the noose and pulled it off over his head. "You foolish man! Are you trying to kill yourself?" She wanted to slap her face; what an idiotic question.

"Leave from here, Little Giry. I'm not even supposed to speak to you." Suddenly, his eyes swelled up with tears. "Let me be."

"What so that you can kill yourself? Never!" He fumbled around like a drunkard and walked out of the water and plopped down onto a grand swan bed. She ran over and sat on the bed, not even thinking that she did not know this man at all. She put her hand to his head. "You're ill, Monsieur." She said.

Erik looked up seeing nothing but a blur of blonde hair and the brown eyes of Meg Giry.


	3. Hangover

Ace of Gallifrey You give me so much motivation...

Erik blinked twice and opened his eyes. He sat up and saw that he had been resting in his glorious swan bed. He rubbed his eyes, which were streaked with tears. He was utterly confused and decided to go and play what else; a musical instrument. He stood up. _But which one? _He wondered. _The harp; yes, that is a good instrument to play when you are confused. _His mind was still very much in his dreams- nightmares- as they mostly were. That's why he didn't like to sleep so much. But he figured that was unhealthy, so he ended up falling asleep and having nightmares; though he was quite used to it by now.

He walked over to his organ; his eyes fixed on the harp which sat behind the wall just beyond. Suddenly, his eyes widened in shock. There; gazing at his portraits of Christine was little Meg Giry. He put his hand on his forehead- his head felt like it was going to burst.. Was he having a hangover? Did he drink last night? Suddenly, a shiver ran through him. Was he with _Meg _last night? Antoinette would be furious. He had to get rid of the ballet rat and quickly. And perhaps get rid of any trace of her. He was just about to speak when Meg turned around.

"Sleeping beauty is awake!" She said. _Sleeping beauty? _Thought Erik his head throbbed. "Oh, the princess' head is hurting isn't it… I suppose you should have some breakfast, and a drink of water. No fear- I have prepared both for you. How about some eggs and ham?" She gestured towards his small art desk which was now cleared of it's messy charcoal sketches and had his Red Death cape draped over it as table cloth. Erik's lungs filled with the smell of the food, and his mouth watered. But he wasn't about to rush over, stuffing himself. So, hand still on his aching head, he walked slowly, or rather wobbled, over to the lovely well prepared table.

Just as he sat down, Meg tied a piece of cloth around him as a bib.

"There we go. I am going to be your nurse-maid. Since you are down here all alone." She said. He ate some of his food and drank the water as neatly as possible, even though he was starving. And then he figured he should question this suspicious 'nurse' of his.

"How did you get down here?" He asked. She pulled up a stool and sat across from him, elbows on the table, hands folded and her chin resting on them.

"I followed my mother."

"When she was here yesterday afternoon?" He inquired.

"Of course." She replied. He was about to speak again but she put her hand up, "Have no fear; I know you probably do not remember what happened last night. But I took care of you. You appeared to be drunk. And that was confirmed when I saw an empty bottle of Champagne sitting on the floor near your bed." She couldn't help but chuckle that he had gotten drunk; and on Champagne! Erik did not recall drinking, he wasn't one for alcohol. In fact; he hadn't ever gotten drunk in his life. He was shocked at himself. How very strange. Where did he even retrieve the Champagne from?

"Oh.." He said thinking about it all. "Thank you. Were you here all night?" He picked up his glass of water chugging it down. Meg smiled.

"No. I was not. I just saw to take off your jacket and shoes, and I hurried back just in time to be late for ballet rehearsals. Do not worry; I made up a pretty convincing excuse to mama for being late. She was not surprised, as I am late frequently. I am always usually chatting away with Christine…" Her voice trailed off. Why did she go and do such a thing as mention her friend. Erik closed his eyes. After a pause that Meg felt would go on forever, he stood up and turned his back to her.

"Leave." He said, his voice not as smooth as before.

"But I was only-"

"Meg- I appreciate what you did, but I promised your mother I would not speak to you, let alone have you make breakfast for me!" He said.

"But you didn't have me-"

"Meg!" Erik said pointing to the way out. She walked slowly passed him and to the staircase, then she stopped. "What?" Erik questioned.

"You have some egg yoke on your face." She said calmly, and then complied by leaving the room. "Suppose, I wanted to use the boat!" Her voice echoed as she turned the first corner.


	4. Piercing Eyes in BOX 5

This chapter is for Gerard Butler. I know I have been making errors and I will attempt my hardest to make it work with the characters and the feeling. Thank you so much for your reviews! They mean so much to me.

Erik paced around in his dungeon. His mind racing through all that had occurred a year ago. He saw Christine sitting on the floor in his lair, weeping in pity at his cursed face. He saw her standing there, mesmorised by him as he sang about the music of the night. He felt her clutch onto him for dear life as they fell into the depths after he had cut down the chandelier. Suddenly, he heard a soft voice call out his name. His mind burst forth from his heavy thoughts, and into realty. Meg Giry was standing right beside him.

"Hello, Erik. I brought you this." She said holding a great loaf of bread. "Corrine made it, and it is so delicious. You must try some." Erik did not know who Corrine was and he did not care. Why on earth was Meg back down here?

"Meg, please you must…" Before he could continue, she dropped the loaf of bread, and ran into his arms locking her lips with his. He didn't know what was happening. He picked her up and carried her to his great bed. He saw as he just put her down that suddenly she had a look of horror on her face. She began to scream, an earsplitting scream that echoed through his mind. Then she morphed into Christine, ripping off his mask. He sat up in a fluster. He had fallen asleep on his organ. He was shocked. Why did he have such a dream? Why was Meg in it? Why was she, with her long blonde hair- What were these thoughts? Erik was terribly confused. He began playing his organ, almost pounding on it. What was wrong with him?

Meg stood behind with the other ballet girls watching Carlotta sing, and at some points squawk, _il mio cuore soffre per te, _which was the opening song to the performance. Meg's mind was not on the rehearsal, it was dwelling on Erik. Why did he try to kill himself? Was he that lonely? Suddenly, she didn't care weather she was allowed to see him or not, she felt strongly that he needed someone to be with him; to watch over him, or else he may try to take his life again. She wanted nothing more than to help this unfortunate soul.

"Meg, why are you standing there staring? Get on center stage with the rest of the ballet!" Lolita yelled. She quickly ran into her place.

Meg's mind kept drifting over to thoughts about Erik, and she kept trying to pay attention to her moves. She glanced up at BOX 5 and could not believe her eyes. There, sitting on the front chair of the box was Erik. She fell over.

"Meg!" Antoinette called and rushed over to help her daughter up. "What's wrong with you to day? Oh, never mind. Go, take a break." Meg stared up at the box as she walked offstage. She saw his green eyes flashing. She couldn't take her eyes off them. She ran up the staircase behind the box and knocked on the door.

"Erik?" She whispered, pressing her ear to the door. There was no answer. She pressed down the handle and walked in. No one was there. Had she imagined him there? What had come over her?

I know it was short, but I have been kind of distracted, kind of like Meg. Hope you liked it anyway.


	5. Erik is Suspicious

pidpit may you have many thrilling kisses from Erik. (and I am sure you will if you are reading this… )

Erik stood in BOX 5 watching the ballet rehearsal, after that cursed Carlotta sang her part on the stage. He watched as dainty little Meg Giry danced beautifully alongside all of the others in the chorus. _I never knew her to be such a wonderful dancer. _He thought. _I suppose I was always so caught up in Christine- _He swallowed as he thought of the fair Miss Daaé; but she was no longer Miss Daaé… now she was certainly Mrs. Christine De Chagny. He swallowed hard again. He continued watching Meg, and something came over him, an anger so strong, that he could send their new chandelier down.

His eyes drew up to it. It was not quite as grand as the last one, but it was gorgeous all the same. He clenched his fists as his eyes dropped back down at little Meg Giry. For some reason she was not dancing up to her usual standard. Well, he didn't really know her usual standard, seeing as he was paying attention to Christine, and not she, but from what he knew, she was not dancing as well as she normally did. He grinned at her, his emerald eyes flashing. He almost chuckled at the little rat. He rubbed his gloved hands together, smirking.

"I will have my revenge… I will find some way…" He said; the madness from the years passed enveloping his mind once again. Suddenly, he saw that Meg's eyes were locked with his. She fell over, and her mother rushed over to help her up. She stood up and walked towards an exit under BOX 5, he knew that the little brat's curiosity was her strongest trait and she would not be satisfied until she found him. Her eyes continually locked with her, she made her way to the exit. He pulled aside a certain revealing his own, special exit, which was a trap door in the box, and after opening it, he started down a dark ladder and reached up to cover the passage with the curtain again.

Meg Giry looked around the box; confused, and then left it, closing the door behind her. She put her hand to her head and closed her eyes.

"Mother is right, I need a break; a rest." She said, and then smiling when she thought of the wonderful bath that was sitting in her mother's room. She went down the stair case and entered the theatre again. She walked up onto the stage.

"Are you all right, my dear?" Antoinette asked, with a concerned expression on her face.

"I feel a little… overwhelmed. If it is alright, may I go take a bath?" She asked.

"Of course, my dear. Would you like me to come with you, to wash your hair?"

"No, it is fine." Meg replied. Madame Giry smiled fondly at her daughter.

"Take all the time you need. You have done well enough for rehearsals today."

"Thank you," Meg beamed and walked back stage, heading to her mother's bed chamber.

She entered the room and saw the enticing bath sitting in the left hand corner. She closed the door, and walked over to it, and turned the faucet. She stripped off her clothes and stepped in the steaming water. She sat in it, feeling completely relaxed and ready to replenish. She closed her eyes, imagining all sorts of wonderful things. She fantasized being in a grand palace, in a huge golden tub, with hand-maidens all around, prepared to do her bidding. There would be large windows, letting the sun light shower over her face. She smiled; content with these lovely dreams.

As Erik approached Madame Giry's bed room, he heard the rush of water running. Was Meg bathing? After she saw him in the BOX, instead of satisfying her curiosity, she decided to take a bath. He was surprised, how unlike the little child. Suddenly, he heard the water stop as she turned the faucet. Now she would be lying there; soaking it all up; morphing herself into a prune. He went and stood in a dark corner; waiting.

Once decided, that she had wrinkled herself quite enough, she got out of the water and began putting on her clothes. She struggled a little as she tied her own corset, for she was quite used to her mother doing it for her, but she tied it just the way she wished it to be done- not squeezing her to the bursting point. She went over to her mother's closet to find a robe she could throw on so she would be a little modest when she crossed the hall to her own room. She stuck her head in, searching, and having come across a light blue laced one; she threw it on and closed the closet. She nearly fell over in shock when she saw that she was not alone in the room. There- standing at the door was Erik.

He entered the room, watching as she searched her mother's closet. He stood, leaning on the door hinges, with his arms crossed; waiting for her to step out. She did, and gasped when she saw him. He was expecting a gasp of sorts, and was relieved that it was not a squeal.

When Meg had seen the man down in his dungeon the other day, he had been a broken, drunken man, who was ready to take his life. And before she got the chance to speak to him about it the following morning, he hand sent her away, saying that he gave his word to her mother not to speak with her. Yet, here he stood, a completely shifted character. A tall handsome man, who stood with an air of pride about him, looking rather suspicious- as though he were withholding a plan.

"Erik," She started.

"I assume your mother told you my name,"

"Well, I coaxed it out of her at one point," They both knew this was a rather odd way to begin a conversation- but they also knew that it would be even odder if they started it normally; as two friends would- for they were not friends… All Meg knew of this man was that he was rather creepy, very mysterious, someone who enjoyed playing tricks and threatening people and someone who was heart-broken. All Erik knew of this girl was that she was a decent dancer, and that her mother was the only person in the world that had ever shown him kindness, excepting Christine- if you could call her motives kind… "Well…" Meg continued.

"Well…"

"Well, why are you here?" Meg questioned.

"To see you, of course…" He said. She looked at him, as if to discover his real motive.

"To see me?" She repeated. "Why ever would you want to see me? I thought my mother told you off…" She stood there with her hands on her hips looking like a suspicious cat. Erik almost laughed.

Sorry- I will update soon. This depends on your reviews….


	6. Erik and the Little Meg

Hi – this is for you, thanks to your wonderful reviews

"She told me it was okay to speak with you," Erik said, lying through his teeth. It was easy; after all she was just a chorus girl. Although, as he stood gazing upon her now. He realized she had transformed into something quite eye-catching. She was a fetching girl that Meg.

"Why should I believe you?" Meg searched his face, only to find that he was more handsome than before.

"Of course, you don't _have _to believe me." Erik's green eyes pierced her and a shiver ran up her spine. _This gorgeous man wants to speak to me, and I am questioning it? _Meg thought. She nearly slapped herself for such a thought. _Come on, Meg, this man is the one who had a wax model of your best friend in his home. _She recalled the night when he hid from the mob, the night he had kidnapped Christine; the night she had found his mask. The memories seemed to come from eons ago; however they all occurred only from one year. She eyed him with suspicion again- just so he was certain she did not fully trust him, and then asked,

"Alright. What do you want with me?"

"You said earlier that you would be my nurse; that you would take care of me… Is that still true?" He inquired.

"I suppose…" She responded softly. He put his head up, as if in victory, beaming. With those eyes of his shining brightly, the goose bumps came for another visit up Meg's arms.

"Thank you," He said velvet enveloping his soothing voice. "I don't know where I would be without you. What you did last night- thank you…" He said again, this time without the snake-like tone in his voice; this time it was quite sincere.

"Your welcome," She gulped staring up at him. He bowed his head briefly, and Meg bowed hers, and with that, he exited. Meg stood there, almost frozen. Then suddenly, she put her hand to her heart, and smiling brightly, ran over to the mirror.

She picked up her mother's brush and began combing away at her hair which was almost dry. She grinned at her reflection, humming, and trying out different berets in her hair. Just as she clipped in a butterfly one, her mother entered the room. Meg barely even noticed her, so lost in her daydreams.

"Someone looks cherry," Antoinette said smiling, "I trust you had a very relaxing bath. I am glad- it was just the thing for you. I'm sure, especially with what's been on your mind lately…" Meg turned to face her mother.

"On my mind?" She said inquisitively.

"Well, yes. I am sure you were thinking on that fateful night last year.." Her mother said.

"Oh, yes, of course." She continued singing sweet nothings.

"Meg, is there something you have to tell me?"

"Why do you ask?"

"Well, the way you're humming and singing to yourself… I just thought.. That is, I have been in the same situation, my dear." Antoinette sat down on the edge of her bed.

"In my situation?" She mimicked.

"Yes, when I was about your age, there was a young man… and well I had feelings for him."

"Ooh, really, mama?" She asked, running over to sit beside her. "Who was he?"

"He was very handsome and very deep... Yet, still, he had a wicked sense of humour; he was your father." She said. Meg looked at her mother, surprised; she did not know that they met at the opera. Her mother did not speak so much about him, and Meg had not known him since he died before Meg was born.

"Oh, Mama, was he quite charming as well?" She asked, her eyes sparkling with tears.

"He was," Antoinette looked down at her hands as she played with her dress. She patted her daughter on the head, rising from where she sat. "You should go get ready for dinner.

"Alright, mama." Meg said, and upon exiting her room, she had one more question. "Did papa work at the opera?" She asked.

"Yes. He was a scene-shifter." Antoinette replied.

Hope you enjoy, please continue reviewing, if it's any good… Oh, and if you review, saying so much as one word, I am sure Erik will give you one big kiss! THANKS!


	7. Why?

Erik sat in the silence of his domain, the only sound being the dripping of water from the cave ceiling. Was it not cruel of him to use little Meg the way he was about to? He did not have much time to think of this, as Meg had now entered the scene.

"Hello, Erik," She said, smiling as she walked in. He turned to see her walk in holding a tray with a cake on it. "A made a little something for you- to cheer you up." She set it down on the table she had prepared for him the other day. Erik was surprised, he expected her to be kind, and _help _him- yes… However he did not expect _this. _

"T-thank you.." He said.

Meg watched as the infamous 'Phantom' walked over and seated himself in front of the marvelous confection she had brought to him. She expected him to take the fork and knife she had laid there the other day and cut into it, but he merely sat there, gawking at it.

"Um.. Erik, are you not going to cut yourself a slice?" She inquired. As if in slow motion, he turned his head to face her.

"I have never eaten cake before." He said. She looked into those eyes; those eyes that were pleading for something- but what was it? Perhaps it was a friend, and she was an expert at being a friend. She was shocked at his answer. Never had a cake before… but what about on his birthday? She gasped; perhaps he never celebrated his birthday.

"Let me cut you a piece," She said, smiling sweetly. She seated herself across from him and cut a small piece, and served it to him on a fine plate of china. "There, now try some."

He stabbed the fork into it and bringing it up to his mouth, he neatly took a bite. Meg smiled, her soft brown eyes shining. She felt as if she had accomplished a great task.

"It is delicious." He said after swallowing. Meg's small smile expanded into a grin; she had succeeded.

"I am glad you like it." She said, arising from her seat. He continued to eat, and she walked about his lair admiring his art work. "All these drawings are flawless. Is that the Taj Mahal?" She traced her finger on the gorgeous replica.

"Yes," He replied, taking a sip of water. Suddenly, he realized that she would be looking at _all _of his drawings. He had to stop her before she saw the ones he had foolishly drawn of Christine. He stood up, and rushed over to her. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he said, "Come, you must take a tour of the lake." She beamed the smile of a little girl who was about to receive a new doll. He took her hand and led her to his gondola. She stepped in and sat down.

"Love the Persian pillows." She said, almost sarcastically. He was so over-the-top with the appearance of his home. It was like the home of a prince; though a lot smaller she supposed. He pushed it off shore and hopped in and took his long rod in hand. She looked at her surroundings; mesmorised. "I never knew there to be so much down here." She said, thoroughly awed.

"Yes, it is quite a magnificent place."

"I could live here," She said under her breath, so as not to let him hear. Suddenly, she squealed with delight. "Erik! There are fish in the water! Do you go fishing?" She asked. Erik chuckled; she was so young; though he forgot it at some points.

"Sometimes," He responded.

"How lovely," She said, and giggled at the thought of adorable Erik attempting at catching a fish and instead, falling in.

"What?" He questioned.

"Nothing.."

"I have to eat something, you know.." He said.

It had been quite a long while since he had returned Meg to back where she belonged; above, and he had now finished the whole cake! _I never would have known them to be this good. _He thought, after his rather unhealthy meal. He sat in his chair feeling stuffed; which was extremely rare. After a moment of silence, he felt a need for music. He stood up and walked over to his violin case and gently took her out. Gracefully, taking the bow in hand, he played some lovely notes. He closed his eyes, passion filling his soul. What would he ever do without music? After playing a couple melodies, he felt tired and stepped into his bed chamber. He sat down thinking of all that had occurred earlier in the day. Suddenly, a cold feeling of guilt seeped through him. First, he lied to her by saying that it was okay with her mother to be with him, and now he was going to… to. How could he, though? After her kindness, how? He stood up, pacing his home.

The plan was simple enough, he was going to make Meg fall for him, and then when she was within his grasp, he would lull her into a false sense of security, and having made her enveloped in the depths of her devotion to him, he would as quick as a spider cheat her by finding some naive chorus girl and… he grimaced at his devious scheming. Why? WHY? What made him so full of rage when he looked around him? Why was it so important that he should deceive and break the heart of innocent Meg, when all he wanted was revenge on Christine? How was this even revenge, though? Perhaps, he thought by hurting Meg, that Christine would come to find out, and believe it was all _her_ fault. Yes- that was what it was. And now, the more he thought of it, the more ridiculous it seemed. For the first time in his life; Erik felt stupid. He sat down putting his head in his hands. _What am I doing? What have I to live for? Every day I feel I need to scheme, to plot, and then to hurt someone… But why? _He wondered bitterly. What was the purpose for him even being alive? It was once Christine, but what was it now?


	8. Weighing on his Mind

Erik looked down at the rose for the fifth time that day. What _had _he been thinking? Surely Madame Giry would come to know very soon about what he had been doing. Where had his mind gone? That- he would never know; it had left him long ago.

"Erik, you seem very distracted today." Meg commented. Erik glanced up at the young lady, who was sitting at a corner she had made for herself a few days ago. She used it mostly to do her sewing. "Erik?" She repeated. His mind was a blur. He merely grunted softly in reply. She seemed to say something else, but he was too busy wading through his thoughts.

It had been almost a week since Meg had agreed to be his 'friend', and she had followed through on her promise. She had come down to his lair almost every morning, before ballet practice to give him company. She would speak with him about his art, and where his inspiration came from, and he would spout out random facts that he knew; even though he spent most of his life down in the dungeon, he did not waste his time; he made sure it was filled with many books of knowledge, and he read them all. Since he did not attend school, he had been determined to teach himself, and he had succeeded beautifully, the genius that he was…

Meg also had her part in speaking about her day-to-day life of her dancing, and the silly things that the chorus girl's gossiped about. Every so often she would tell Erik about her dream of one day being a prima ballerina. She told him of her passion for dance; and he listened. Every night he would think of what he had done earlier in the day, and a warmth would envelope inside him as he pictured Meg's sweet face in his head. She was something that he had never known, she was a friend. She spoke to him, told him what was on her mind, and equally listened to him. Their conversations _never_ under any circumstances, took a turn for the worst; the horrors that had occurred with her young friend Christine. Sometimes Meg would be aching to ask him something about her, but then she would restrain herself, because she knew he wouldn't want it.

There were so many things weighing on his mind that he needed to speak out, but he just couldn't; he wasn't ready.

"What?" Erik said; seeing as he had not been taking in anything that Meg had been saying.

"I was just asking what you were thinking about. You seem…" Meg searched her mind for the right word, "Full."

"Full?" Erik repeated, silver dripping in his voice. It made Meg swallow loudly. She coughed, and then continued.

"Well, it appears that your mind is.. well"

"Full." Erik said yet again. Meg nodded in response. Erik stood up and paced around slowly for a moment.

"Yes, Meg. You're right. My mind is… full."

"Do you need," She paused to breathe before continuing. "Would you like to tell me what is on your mind?"

"On my mind…" His eyes which had once been piercing greens, were now misty blues. "I… I don't think I…"

"I understand." Meg said rising from her seat, and placing her sewing on it. She now stood right before him, with concern in her eyes. She put her hand on his shoulder softly. A shiver ran through him at her touch. It had been so long since he had had physical contact. He gulped. "I know just what you need…"

"What's that?" He inquired softly.

"A journal." She replied firmly. He looked at her surprised.

"A journal?"

"It is a wonderful thing to have when you have a lot on your mind… And it feels incredible when you let it all flow out onto a piece of parchment." She said, closing her eyes in recalling the feeling.

"Do you keep a journal?" He asked. She nodded taking her hand away from his shoulder. He was actually almost miffed; he wished she would keep her hand there longer.

"Yes…You should really try it." She said. This time he decided to be bold. He walked over and gently put his hand on _her _shoulder.

"Thank you, Meg." She closed her eyes again, the way he said it… It was surely from the depths of his soul. "I will."

"You're welcome." She responded.


	9. New Feelings

Thank you SO much for all of your reviews. And special thanks to my newest reader nannyandpotocrazy ~ An addition, and you make a big difference!

Erik, after finding that his favourite box was finally empty, sat and watched the performance of _Amami__ o L'amore non Mi_. He was not angry any longer at the fact that Carlotta was the star; in fact he almost _enjoyed_ watching her- even though he found her singing to be rather painful to listen to. She was actually okay as an actress. He of course did not like her one bit for her own merits; after all she _was_ a snob... However he found this night that he really had never given her a chance to prove herself on stage, and she was actually a decent actress. He did not fully regret the small childish tricks he had played on her, like switching the voice-spray; however he could not help but feel almost apologetic for some of his actions. Though they were amusing and well deserved on her part, they were rather cruel, and humiliating.

What _were _these thoughts? Was Erik, the 'Opera Ghost', who played tricks, and even on occasion knocked out a couple of people, growing a conscience? Was he beginning to understand how unkind some of what he did was? Well, whether he realized it or not; he was, but not strong enough for him to want to make indemnification. His mind broke forth from these thoughts when he heard applause. He looked out at the stage from the perfect view in BOX 5 and saw that Carlotta had finished her opening song, and the scene had changed for the ballet chorus to come in. That was when he caught his eye on Meg. She looked lovely, despite her disgusting brown costume that was forced upon her. It was her face that made her look so pleasantly charming, there was something in her expression; something that made him shiver. He watched her every move; she was so graceful. Why was it that has never noticed this girl before? How come she was always just a shadow? Most likely it was because of… he grimaced at the thought… Christine. Christine Daae was very beautiful. This was fact; and her voice added to that beauty. But now as he thought back on Christine, and every moment that he saw her in the chorus, he also recalled the sweet Meg standing beside her… actually in the pictures of his memories, it seemed that Meg had been standing _behind _her. He thought of how Christine was with him; how she treated him. She had been kind; she had listened as no one had ever before. Nevertheless, she ended up almost as deceitful as the gypsies that he had lived with as a child. She had, without asking, just to satisfy her curiosity on one occasion, and just to humiliate him on the other, taken off his mask, thereby revealing his gruesome side.

For the first time in months that he thought of her, he did not feel a pleading in his mind of, "Why, oh why did she do that?" Now, it no longer mattered, he did not even feel a pinch of love towards her. "My love that once was for you, Miss Daae has been vanquished." He thought. He then continued watching as the ballet chorus danced away. Meg seemed almost glowing; and suddenly, it was to him, as if she were the only dancer on stage.. doing a lovely solo. He sighed about it. She was wonderful! Why on earth had she been spending time with him when she could be doing extra practice for becoming prima ballerina? Suddenly, he felt an urge; such an urge to help her; to mold her. He wanted badly for her to be the only one on that stage, or at least in front of all the others; doing her own thing. But he couldn't do that now. So, he sat back watching and then applauding at the end of the dance.

"I must go backstage to see her afterword." He thought as he clapped.

Indeed, when the performance was complete, he rapidly headed down to where he could find her at her changing room backstage.

Hope you all enjoyed…. Please continue with your motivating reviews. They are what really keeps me writing, aside from that I have a passion for the Phantom.


	10. Petite Meg Giry

elfigreen14- My latest reviewer, thank you SO much, here's for you!

For the first time in thirty-five-year-old Erik's life- he felt shy. He had knocked on Meg Giry's dressing room door and now upon entering, found her standing before him looking all lit up inside- she looked dazzling.

"Erik! I am surprised to see you up here; didn't you have to walk through a crowd to get here?" She asked. Erik did not respond right away, for he was too busy taking in the lovely figure of little Marguerite. He cleared his throat.

"You- um… I came to tell you… that is…" She could see he was avoiding her question, and she was aching to know what he had to say.

"My, are we articulate this evening?" Meg remarked.

"Forgive me…" He cleared his throat again, hoping his words would come out right.

"You danced divinely." Upon his rather generous compliment, at least it was generous for the infamous Opera Ghost; she was flattered immensely and blushed conspicuously.

"Thank you," Meg replied, and sparks lit up her soft brown eyes. Erik nodded once in reply.

"Well," She remarked.

"Well…" He repeated. They both stood there, she looking at her feet, and he gazing at the petite girl with his eyes shining. _What a little beauty. _He thought.

"Well, I'd better go and change…" Meg's words broke him out of his thoughts. He swallowed.

"Right," He said.

"Right," She repeated and he made an awkward bow before closing the door behind him. Seeing the door handle click, Meg Giry sat down with her hand on her forhead. She heaved a deep sigh. _Alright, get a hold of yourself, Meg. _She thought. She then stood up and walked back behind the wooden dressing screen.

As Erik now headed down a dark passageway that led down to his lair, he could not get the picture of Meg standing before him; eyes alight with a flame burning inside her. What were these thoughts? One year ago, he would have never even imagined feeling any of these feelings or thinking any of these thoughts about anyone except Christine. But the more he thought, the more he realized that these thoughts were better… Whenever he used to think and fantasize about Christine, the thoughts would fill him with a feeling that was rather uncomfortable; for even though he denied it sometimes, he always knew that Christine only cared for him as friend, or as comfort- but nothing else, and that always left him feeling cold. So, he always tried to convince himself that she would _come _to love him, and he would sketch her, or even stalk her every where she went- just to ensure that maybe her feelings were slowly moving towards the affection he desired her to have for him.

But those affections never wavered or moved in a direction that he wished for- in fact just after he had threatened the life f her lover, she told him she hated him. His love for her had started as a love for her voice, then for her whole being, and then it was just longing and obsession, until it drove him mad. His love for her was not the right kind of love. And it was never returned, or even accepted. It started out to be amiss, and then continued that way until the very last day he saw her. These new thoughts and feelings that were for Meg were different. He did not know what she felt for him- he would not have blamed her if she too loathed him. But when he thought of her, he thought of her gentle touch, how very careful she was. He knew that she would never do what Christine had done to him. He stopped his heart burnt with the memories. His feelings for Meg were new, but they did not start on a dangerous level, and they were not far fetched.

He knew that lessons were learned, and he was going to be careful this time. He was not going to let his emotions take over him. He was going to actually _think _about Meg. That was where he was flawed before; his love for Christine was selfish. It was as if she were his toy, and then his property, and if she so much as glanced at another man, she had tripped; he wouldn't allow her to be 'stolen' from him. The way he felt for Meg, was not that of a toy, she was a human being, _and _a young lady. She deserved respect, as well as she deserved care and affection. And he was going to make sure he gave her that. He was going to be a gentleman- something he always had in him, but it would go amiss for he did not quite know how to keep control over his emotions. Above all, until he knew that she might have feelings for him- he would simply be her friend. Yes- as he now sat in his bed, removing his shoes from his feet, he knew that he was in control over his feelings and that he could finally handle himself.


End file.
